#they also don’t seem to learn from their mistakes
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OBEY ME OLDER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!
Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, GN! Reader/MC, possible cringe
Notes: This is literally my first ever fan fic I’ve published (if head cannons count as fan fics lmao) so apologies for any mistakes or weird formatting! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, I’m ASKING for it if you have any🙏
Alsoo they just kept getting longer and longer, I don’t know why and I’ve gone through lucifers to try and make it longer but I just can’t so sorry😭
LUCIFER: you can’t see their eye colour until you meet them.
* It wasn’t really that bad, being unable to see red.
* Being unable to see the colour of your blood as it oozed out of a cut wasn’t really that bad, even if it just looked like grey tar pouring out instead which is equally gross
* It wasn’t really that bad to just never be able to see a single colour, everyone had to put up with it at some point
* But it was sad how rose bouquets always looked dull, and how hearts would always be grey
* It was sad how you couldn’t just imagine up a new colour to fill the void that not being able to see red left
* You knew that the colour you couldn’t see was called red, and you could learn as much as you’d like about it but that didn’t meant you could imagine it let alone see it for yourself
* Not until you were teleported into a large, court-like room one day
* You looked up from whatever you were doing and stared up at the man who had begun to cheerfully talk in front of you. His hair was that familiar gray that you recognised as red
* He introduced you to your situation and the school, and in your panic your eyes darted across the room
* Then, you suddenly made eye contact with a man in a dark coat, hair a matching colour and eyes that were also a dark colour
* but a new dark colour
* Not that gray you had been familiar with your whole life, but a fierce mix of orange and pink, the way the colour red had been described to you your entire life
* You saw through your periphery some orniments on the wall and the previous man’s hair and jacket come to life with colour, but you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark haired man before you
* He had frozen, just like you, afraid to blink, afraid that he’d lose this enticing new colour again after missing it for so long if he were to let it go for less than a second
* When he finally looked away, he saw how different decorations in the room that had previously been gray lit up with the colour of your eyes, the world never seeming so alive in all the thousands of years of his life as they did in that moment
* For the first time in his incredibly long life, he saw the beauty that was your eyes and all the beauty they brought with them.
MAMMON: the red string of fate.
* Your entire life you had been accompanied by that obnoxious red string.
* Whenever you glanced down to your non-dominant hand, the first thing you noticed was the red string all tangled up and wrapped around your hand
* Sometimes you’d get bored and tie nots in it or rest it on a surface and pull it to make shapes, but as soon as you took your attention away from it it’d return to normal, pointing in the direction of your soulmate
* And for some reason, the direction would always be down
* Not always directly down, sometimes diagonal, but it always managed to go into the ground.
* Was your soulmate miner or something???
* You had tried and tried countless times to follow it, going into basements and even considering going cave exploring in case your soulmate was some kind of cave creature trapped down there
* There was even a time you considered that they could be in hell, because where else could they be that’s so low down?!
* You had grown to hate it, the way it would taunt you and while it showed your friends their soulmates, it just showed you the dirt on the ground
* Hopes of finding your soulmate and curiosity to where they could be grew into despair, concluding that your soulmate was either a mole person or dead
* Both results meant that you’d never meet them and would forever be tormented by that hideous, obnoxious, torturous red string that was eternally tied to your ring finger
* You were waiting in a lobby for a job interview when you suddenly popped into the devildom
* A man was happily introducing you to the courtroom(?) and all of the people sat inside of it
* There was a man named Lucifer, followed by his younger brothers, all of which noticeably sharing names with demons. This place was called the Devildom, they’re demons, is this hell?Someone must be pulling your leg or something, right?!?!
* You were cut of from your thoughts by the dark haired man- Lucifer- telling you to call his younger brother.
* You hesitantly took the phone-like device called a ‘DDD’ from Lucifer’s hands and dialed the number you were told to, fidgeting with the string on your ring finger that nobody else could see
* You waited for Lucifer’s younger brother, Mammon, to show up, still fiddling with the string, when you felt a sudden jolt on the string
* You looked down, to see the string moving slightly, left to right to slightly up, and noticed that it was no longer going into the ground. It was right at the doorway to the room.
* A man stormed into the room, immediately charging in your direction and shouting about your ‘nerve’ to summon ‘the great Mammon’
* Safe to say the shouting died down when he took a look at your hand and noticed how your strings were connected
* Awkward silence filled the air until it was interrupted by the Avatar of Lust, cooing at the situation when he put two and two together and realised what was going on
* You were too focused on the red string connecting you to his hand to noticed the red slowly covering mammons face
* Internally, you laughed. Of course you found your soulmate in Hell.
LEVIATHAN: you make choices for your soulmate.
* You woke up to the sun shining through your curtains. Your soulmate, for whatever reason, didn’t allow you to shut your blinds. He didn’t even decline it, just left it on read.
* Why did you even have to request to do something so mundane?!
* Your soulmate forgetting to respond to your requests was a common occurrence, usually in the morning, but any time could be victim to your soulmates negligence to your requests.
* You went downstairs and opened your fridge and grabbed the first thing you saw: a pancake filled with red bean paste, in a box labeled ‘Azuki-tan, cute companion!’
* You had zero clue what that meant, you just remembered seeing it for sale at a grocery store a couple days ago
* Again, you had to send a request to your soulmate over whether you could eat this or not.
* Almost immediately, it was accepted. You didn’t really stop to think about the fast reaction time to the request, just thankful this wasn’t another ignored request
* Just as you were about to put it into your mouth, you were teleported to a large room that resembled a court room and contained a lot of chairs and 6 scary-looking men
* You kind of zoned out for most of that discussion until you started asking questions, but safe to say the pancake was forgotten, still in your hand.
* You made your way to where you would be staying with the demon assigned to look after you, Mammon, when a request from your soulmate popped up:
* ‘Soulmate would like to: Ask his brother for his money back.’
* You accepted, wondering what harm could be done, and entered the building with Mammon.
* You were just chatting with the white haired boy when all of a sudden a boy with purple hair started yelling at him “How about this? I vote for YOU to die, Mammon!”
* They started to yell at each other about money, which you found to be an odd coincidence. Would this even be considered as asking for money though? It’s more like bullying.
* You watched the argument unfold and brought the pancake to your mouth, about to take a bite, when the purple haired boy froze and stared at you, which made you stand there awkwardly with your mouth about to bite into the pancake for a few seconds waiting for him to say something
* “Is that Azuki-tan?!”
* “Umm… I think that was on the packaging… why?”
* Very awkward. Oh look, a request!
* ‘Soulmate would like to geek-out about Azuki-Tan and The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl franchise.’ You accepted. How random.
* You had no time to ponder the randomness of the request because the purple haired boy, Levi as Mammon had introduced him, began to spout random nonsense about the pancake? No, a girl called ruri hana- wait no, now he’s going on about voice acting- who’s that voice actor?- wait what show is he going on about now?!?! You really wanted to tell this guy to slow down or shut up!
* He paused for a quick moment and pressed a button in the air, continuing with his tangent when you yelled at him to just slow down!
* He paused. He stared into your soul. He looked like he was rebooting, or something.
* “You’re my soulmate?” He said, voice shaky. You asked him what he meant, and he just started going on a rant about an anime where this very thing happened and- he’s off topic again, he’s going a mile a minute! You asked the voice in your head ‘can I please tell him to shut up?!’
* He stopped and stared at you, now yelling how you were asking him to shut up and how rude than was!
* Oh shit. He’s right? He’s your soulmate? And you just asked your soulmate to shut up the annoying guy in front of you?? Whew boy.
* You awkwardly mutter apologies to eachother, flustered, both the pancake and his older brother forgotten.
#obey me#obey me!#obey me solmare#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me mammon x reader#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me x reader#x reader#btw the reason Levi was forgetting to respond to the requests esp in the morning is because#he was busy gaming or slept in😞 I didn’t make that clear soz#I’ll make the younger brothers tomorrow probs#constructive critism welcome
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Punishment.
Cult of the Lamb Ficlet because I lost control of my life again
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Lamb and their right hand cat, Narinder, walk about the cult grounds discussing plans for new buildings.
Kallamar and Saleos walk by, the former passively rambling outloud about schemes he will never actually go through with to the latter who just nods along, with the same reverence and eagerness a dog might have toward its owner. Kallamar seems to look at Saleos the same way one might be looked at by their housecat. As little good as they're surely up to, neither god of death pays them any mind, as they have proved to be more harmless together than apart.
Lamb chats to Narinder while sketching vague blueprints, “I saw you at your siblings’ house earlier, Nari’.”
Narinder grunts, “... And?”
“Don’t tell me The One Who Waited has forgiven them after being neighbors with them for only two hundred years?” Lamb teases.
“Of course not! None of my siblings have my forgiveness, nor will they ever. But, that spider is hardly the same person who betrayed me, not anymore. No point punishing the innocent. No point in letting what little remains of their talents go to waste.”
Narinder chooses his words carefully, the Lamb has probably already gleaned from his thoughts that he went to see Shamura, but maybe he could hide his intent behind ambiguity. This is just another facet of the countless indignities and adjustments he has had to go through after losing his Crown.
“Pragmatic!” Lamb smiles, complimenting the cat. Then, why do you think of guilt, Narinder?
Leshy bursts from the ground before Lamb, startling the young god of death. The worm bares his teeth, “Horrendous cruel beast! Why does Heket have to tend to both the farms and the gardens!? And is the head chef? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, IMMEDIATELY!”
Narinder rolls his third eye and picks up the blueprint Lamb had been working on, checking the shrine dimensions and blood plumbing for mistakes or minor improvements. It’s a skill that is easy to learn, but takes eons of practice to master.
Lamb looks at the worm with a wide friendly smile, unsure of his angle. His chaotic thoughts do not help. “Because, Leshy… She’s an ex-fertility goddess of harvest. I know it’s a lot of work, and she said she was the god of famine, but she seems to retain some power or knowledge of the opposite, so I think she can handle-”
Leshy throws his arms up, “SO DO I! I AM THE GOD OF NATURE! LOOK AT ME! I’M LITERALLY PART PLANT! Heket’s domain is merely domestic crops. Allow me to tend to the flowers and the trees, and I will grow them better than she ever could. Those camellias will have no choice but to obey me, FOR I AM THEIR GOD.”
Lamb tilts their head inquisitively, reopening the wound hidden under their bell collar, “Huh, so that’s why you look like that. I always thought you were the god of chaos?”
“Chaos is nature! Plants are not meant to be grown in ugly rows, so called ‘weeds’ are not meant to be pulled up, my hedges not meant to be trimmed into cubes. Nature is chaotic, it’s people who inflict their order upon it.” Leshy balls his fist.
“But, weren’t you also technically the god of order?” Lamb raises a brow, discreetly checking to make sure they’re wearing the blood red fleece, today. Or at least the robe they stole from Narinder.
Leshy produces a flower from somewhere, likely thin air, and uses it as a prop, “I am! Order is nature! Have you ever considered a flower? The intricacies and mathematical perfection of their petals, that I painted? The perfectly rehearsed dance of an ecosystem in balance? Nature is ordered, it’s people who inflict their chaos upon it.”
“Uh…” Lamb smiles, incredulously.
“What? That made perfect sense, right Narinder? The vile lamb must also be stupid.” Leshy says, rolling his non-existent eyes and throwing an arm around Narinder’s shoulder.
Narinder shrugs him off, not seeming to give a shit.
Lamb says, “Thank you for your concern, Leshy, but I think our current camellia output is sufficient. We really can’t spare another lumberjack, especially one as talented as you.~”
The green worm glowers at the Lamb, bearing his teeth. He turns and storms off.
Narinder watches his brother walk off. He turns to the Lamb, “Why did you put Heket in charge of sustenance? She is not above poisoning, or worse, you are aware of that.”
Lamb giggles, dropping the façade and rubbing their neck, “Because working with food torments her, now she can’t eat anything. Not if it’s still solid. She’s still much too proud to do a bad job, though. And I’m not worried about her poisons, anymore.”
Narinder says, “Oh. She always was a glutton, I suppose.”
“You think I’m being cruel, Nari’?” Lamb says coquettishly, licking their own blood and ichor from their clawed fingers.
Narinder’s three eyes narrow at the Lamb, “Cease your reading of my mind. And, yes, of course I do. However, I did not say it was a bad thing. She deserves it. I imagine that is also why you have Leshy cutting trees down, instead of growing them? Scary, how much of my vindictiveness has rubbed off on you, once so innocent... and, come to think, this is also probably why I was made your ‘disciple’, wasn't it?”
The Lamb gives him a sharp smile, “Ehehehe! Now, I’m starting to wonder if you can read my mind. A fitting punishment, yea? Always by my side. So close to the object of your desire, yet forever powerless to take it…”
Narinder’s face turns red and he gets a nosebleed. “I HATE YOU, Lamb! You are horrible and evil and vile, I’m leaving now.”
The three-eyed cat runs back into his hut.
Lamb mumbles to themself, obliviously, “Huh? He’s still thinking I’m cruel. He must really want the Red Crown back, I better keep teasing him with it!”
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As Leshy retreats to a secluded part of the cult grounds with a bottle of ‘very good’ wine he stole, to brood over the Lamb’s refusal, he groans to realize that he’s unfortunate enough for Kallamar to have already been there doing the same thing.
Kallamar smiles and waves, beckoning Leshy to sit beside him. After a few moments of Leshy not reacting, he speaks up, “Hello, Brother! Sit down, sit down! Still living with that mortal cat?”
Leshy sighs as he does so, “Yes. Still living in Heket’s basement?”
“Just because she built a floor above mine doesn’t make it the basement. It’s a ‘cellar’…” Kallamar clarifies.
“Rrrright.” Leshy brings his bottle to his lips.
“You know, it’s funny how you only act like a normal person when you’re drunk. You’re so much more genuine, this way. I much prefer it.”
Leshy spits out his wine, “W-what’s that supposed to mean?! I’M ALWAYS NORMAL!!! … So, anyways, how’s Shamura doing? If you ever need help taking care of-”
Kallamar cuts him off, “Oh, could you? That'd be great. Saleos hardly ever has time to help. Shamura's condition is… well they haven’t been getting any less lucid. They can take care of most things themself, these days. That’s actually what I was about to mention. Narinder came by the house today. Was asking to visit them.”
Leshy’s hand tightens around the bottle’s neck, “What? You didn’t let him, did you?”
“Of course not. Heket would’ve had my head if I did.”
“Huh… Why?”
“No idea, I can never read the guy. Maybe he feels bad? He used to be very close to Shamura, can’t imagine he wanted any of this to happen.”
“Maybe… But why now? We’ve been living here for a century-”
“Centuries, actually. This year, it’s two hundred.” The squid corrects.
Leshy sighs, “... ‘Centuriessssss’. You know what I mean. Maybe that horrid little Lamb put him up to it. Seems to enjoy torturing us like that.”
Kallamar shrugs, “Shamura’s been asking about Narinder ever since.”
Leshy raises his tone, “Shamura doesn’t know any better. They don’t even understand what happened to them, half the time. Even when they still had the Purple Crown, they kept giving him ‘gifts’. As if nothing had changed.”
Kallamar swirls the red liquid around in his bottle, “I don’t know. You really don’t think it isn’t time to extend the olive branch? He’s in the same boat as us, now. To be honest, I don’t even blame Narinder. He did what any of us would have done in that situation.”
“That’s… surprising to hear from you, Kallamar.”
“I just wish I didn’t have to get caught up in the crossfire. And, isolating Narinder has only been driving him closer to the Lamb, somehow. They are our real enemy.”
Leshy rolls his nonexistent eyes, “Ah, there it is… I mean, I don’t disagree. I empathize with him. And I miss having him as a brother, before all of this. But, I don’t know if I could ever forgive him, not after all he’s taken from me. My existence is hell, because of him.”
“Isn’t that more because of the Lamb, Brother?”
“What? No. Don’t get me wrong, I despise the Lamb. But, it was Narinder who gouged out my eyes, who sicced that vile beast on me.”
“... so?” Kallamar raises a brow.
“W-what do you mean ‘so’? Look at me! What he did to me.” Leshy gestures to his bandaged face.
“He did the same to all of us, you don’t see me asking for pity.” Kallamar takes a drink.
Leshy laughs in Kallamar’s face.
“PFFHAhAHAHahah! NO! No-no, no, no. No. We are not the same. I will admit, Shamura received a far worse fate than I, though my own suffering outweighs that of everyone besides. Then, after mine, was Heket’s. Then Narinder’s. And only then, last of all, is you. He Who Waited merely tore off part of the outside fins of your ears, you are not even deaf, not completely… And, I don’t despise you for losing nothing, Brother, I detest you because you got off so easy because you were a coward then, and you won’t even admit it because you are a coward now.”
Kallamar shakes his head, “Lost ‘nothing’? I lost my crown, my cult!”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, but yes. You did, though I’m sure you cried and bitched the whole time instead of fighting like a man. But, it’s not like you were depending on yours just to hear. Or to speak. Or see.” The worm growls.
“You weren’t exactly blind until becoming a mortal. Didn’t you say you could see with the Green Crown’s eye?”
“That… that wasn’t the same! Didn’t you ever try looking through yours!? The Crowns see only truth, that isn’t the same as seeing. Beauty. Is. Not. True. Natural beauty was once all I cared about bringing into the world, it was what gave my existence meaning, what brought me happiness… For centuries, I haven’t been able to remember what flowers look like. I know their fragrance, their feel, their shape, but their color? I am told camellias are red, red like blood. What is ‘red’, Kallamar? The Green Crown did not give me the emotion of red, not the association of blood and passion, not the striking vibrancy, it merely informed me of the wavelength of photons bouncing off chemical bonds in their pigments and the chemistry and evolution of those biomolecules, and I don’t even have that anymore. ‘Dappled sunlight trickling down from the canopy of Darkwood onto a glittering stream between mossy rocks’, these are only words to me. I can no longer imagine it, as I can’t think in images anymore, only in words and concepts… Every time that I feel cool breeze through my leaflets carrying the perfume of camellias, all I can think of is that I will spend eternity never again knowing their beauty. W-whenever my cat gives me one, I…” Leshy’s lip quivers, he shakes his head.
His head drops into his hands, the worm mumbles, “What’s even the point of living anymore? I want… I deserve death. But this vile, horrid, cruel beast won’t even let me die. They know how I feel, their Crown must show them, they know how torturous this existence is for me! And still they stand there, mocking me, with that horrible sadistic smile. Acting like nothing is wrong.”
Kallamar stares at Leshy, his stitched brow furrowing. “How dare you, Brother? How dare you think that you have the right to hate me, when I already hate myself? H-how dare you think so little of yourself as to deserve pity from someone as worthless as me, when you’re still you? Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now, Leshy? Long before all this, even when you were but a wyrmling barely in control of your Crown, I still envied you. Because, you’re right. I am a coward, and a fucking idiot, not even the Blue Crown could fix that about me, because I’m also so fucking stubborn. I never deserved godhood. But it came so naturally to you, you’re so damn confident, and brave, and fucking cool looking! Everyone loved you for it! Your followers were inspired by you, drawn to you! My cult never even respected me, only feared me… Except for Saleos, he’s somehow worse… I should’ve been proud of you, as your elder bloodbrother, but as worthless and horrid as I am, I felt only jealousy… and loathed myself for it… If you think your greatness was taken from you, I never had any to begin with. If you’d even care.”
Leshy stands up, mouth downturned, the moss on his cheeks caked with wet ichor.
He punches Kallamar in the face.
The squid clutches the burst stitches across his face, “OW! What the hell, Leshy?”
Leshy sneers, “Ooh, you think you deserve pity for knowing you’re pathetic? Don’t you try to out-do my pain! Don’t you think you’re the only one that hates himself. If even you couldn’t tolerate your bullshit, why didn’t you just fucking man up and die!?”
Kallamar reaches for his bottle. Leshy hits him again. The squid falls back, over the log, and flat onto the ground.
The worm screams, “You think what the Green Crown did to me ‘looks cool?’, I’m a tree! You can pass as a normal squid. I have to tell people I’m an abomination, because I am. I’m a monster that devoured souls and families, and enjoyed it. And you think that was a good thing? You think they loved me for it? I didn’t even know what love was! Did you really think that I would feel better if I knew you only hate yourself because you weren’t consumed by your Crown, like me? Because you were still a person underneath it?! Do you understand how lucky someone like you is to have Saleos? How little you deserve his forgiveness, his love? After everything he sacrificed to you, willingly? And every day, you spit in his face!”
Kallamar curls up into a ball as Leshy kicks him repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, p-please…”
Leshy stops, tears dampening his bandages. “Now… Saleos is going to tend to your wounds, you’ll talk his ears off about this, and he���ll still be on your side… and I’ll go home, and my cat will tell me all about how much he loves that benevolent Lamb for saving him from Darkwood. For vanquishing that evil god of chaos…”
Kallamar looks between bloody, shaking fingers, “H-he… still doesn’t know?”
Leshy sits down, wiping ichor from his hands, sniffling. “No. Of course not… I’m a worthless coward.”
The Lamb watches them from the temple window, with a horrible sadistic smile.
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THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader
Summary: You were rescued from Hydra and then joined the Avengers. Bucky seems to hate you and you’re sent on a mission together for undefined time.
Warnings: Mention of experiments, torture and d3ad bodies and things like that. Don’t read if you’re not comfortable with that. Bucky being a bit of an asshole towards you. Also the reader has a name and a last name if that counts as a warning?
Other: This will be some sort of MCU x Supernatural fic. English isn’t my fist language so I apologize in advance for any mistake I made. -> 18+ !!
-> Masterlist
-> Part two
-> Hydra is home (01)
You were born in hell. That’s what Hydra was for you and for everyone who had witnessed the horrors of what happened inside the walls of that place - and there was more than one facility. The worst part is that you didn’t even know, you thought it was normality.
You thought it was normal being used and trained to be a lethal assassin at a young age; you were the youngest and they made you feel special for that. Hydra’s perfect child, that’s how they called you. The only toy you’ve ever had was a knife, and you never questioned it or thought it was horrifying up until you were an adult.
From the earliest age, you were taught that your suffering served a greater purpose, that your pain was going to save that fucked up world you lived in. Not that you had any idea of which color the sky was up until you were six, let alone knowing the rest of the world and it’s shit. You knew no other life besides the walk between your room and the laboratory - the place where you were tied up to those cold metal tables under the gaze of Hydra’s scientists.
But to you, that was normality. That was home, the place you were the safest in - they said. Hydra fed you lies all your life, making you think their atrocities were for the greater good and that you were needed. What they were doing was needed.
Worst thing? You never complained. Always complied.
You learned later on in years that you were being used to recreate a better Super Soldier serum, like the one they used on Captain America and The Winter Soldier. A better, more effective serum that was gonna give them their disciplined weapon, with a few more characteristics. It was a mystery how you survived, to you and to everyone who took a look in your DNA.
They made you a freak.
When you were fifteen, things changed and your whole world turned upside down. It was in the middle of the night that you heard the facility’s alarm, the loud and scary sound meant one thing: bad people had broke in. So you did as you practiced: you moved the rug on floor and used that safety trapdoor to hide, hoping that they wouldn’t find you.
Meanwhile, SHIELD agents were storming in every room of the base, looking for either survivors or Hydra members.
Your heart stopped when the little door above you swung open and you saw a masked man pointing a rifle at you. Hydra was right, you decided then, those were bad people. You don’t exactly remember what happened after, you don’t remember if you tried to fight them or if you passed out. Everything is a blur memory.
What you do remember next, though, is being taken to yet another facility. In the beginning all you could see were monsters who wanted to feed you lies; they said Hydra was bad, that they were a terroristic organization who aimed to rule the world. Crazy, wasn’t it?
Hydra was home.
You didn’t collaborate with them for years, not even when Maria Hill offered you visive proof of how fucked up Hydra was. It was impossible that all you knew, all that you’ve been taught was a lie.
But there was another part: the pain stopped. No more experiments or missions to catch the bad guys with the little help all those samples gave you. No more blood or guns or atrocities - nothing.
Many people amongst SHIELD agents only saw you as just another freak, but weaker than Captain America and with a twisted brain. They saw you as no more than just another Hydra experiment, one that could not be good. You had no name, no family, no friends - you were just existing… and for what? You yourself didn’t know.
Nick Fury was the one who was interested in you. You had heard his name being mentioned a few times before actually meeting him. Perhaps it was just because you had some sort of Super Soldier serum in you and he was only caring for that, but he stepped in and helped you whether you wanted or not.
And he succeeded.
He saw beyond those scars, visible and invisible, recognizing the potential you could have as an actual human being. Fury insisted in your rehabilitation, and with time he saw the first results.
It took you a lot of time and effort to feel like a human being for the first time in 23 years, it wasn’t an easy process by any means and you still weren’t a hundred percent okay with everything. Being told that for fifteen years of you life you were nothing more than a sack of meat with a functioning brain for people to use to their advance wasn’t exactly ideal, especially after learning that it wasn’t normal as you thought.
At first you didn’t even realize how fucked up it was, perhaps you didn’t want to.
But under SHIELD’s care, you started to heal both physically and mentally as best as you could. You were given a name as soon as you were rescued, but you didn’t accept it up until you were 20.
Emma Dayne, that was your new legal name as a free woman. One that had a say in her own life.
That was the name Fury used when you were brought into the Avengers Compound as the newest addition to the team. You, a superhero? Sometimes you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Those people fought against the very same people you called family, those same people who raised you. Thankfully, they never held you accountable for that.
Except him.
James Buchanan Barnes. When he looked at you, all he saw was the enemy: someone who, unlike him, had willingly served Hydra for more than half of her life. He made it clear from the start that he didn’t trust you, he was always cold (which wasn’t rare, but even colder with you) and guarded whenever you were around.
Whenever his eyes found your figure, he couldn’t shake off the memories of his past as the Winter Soldier. The feeling of loss for the years that were stolen from him and that life he could never go back to came back as soon as he saw you, and he started to loathe the sight of you - he felt even worse when he saw how much the other teammates liked you.
But you could not blame him. Not even a bit. You took his silence as a reminder of what you had done - maybe if you had opened your eyes sooner you could have done something, anything, to help him.
After all, you two weren’t completely strangers. You both had worked for the same organization, and you saw him from time to time - you felt guilty. As soon as you saw the hatred in his eyes, when you joined the team, you were consumed by guilt.
But then again, the last time you saw him you were eleven. Super Soldier or not, you were a kid. Your therapist - saint woman - was helping you with that, at least. You knew that earning his trust was gonna take time, and maybe a lifetime wasn’t enough - you knew that in his position you would have been the same. Perhaps his trust wasn’t even your goal, you didn’t know what you wanted from him. You just knew that every time his eyes fell on you, you felt small. Smaller than a bug, and you wanted to change that.
You wanted him to know that you weren’t the enemy he thought you were.
It was a Saturday afternoon when Tony Stark’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, contemporarily snapping his fingers to get your attention. “Dayne, stop thinking about princesses and unicorns. I need your attention, sweetie.”
“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts.” You replied, crossing your legs under the big, round wooden table. You were in the meeting room with the other Avengers - most of them, anyways, and their eyes were all on you. Not judging, some had smiles on their faces.
Except one who wasn’t even looking at you.
“Happens to the best of us too.” He shrugged it off, pointing at himself with a grin. Usual. “But seriously, now I need everyone’s attention or I fear Fury might kill me.” He continued.
“What’s the situation, Tony?” Steve Rogers inquired, his usual serious expression on.
Tony leaned forward on the table, after he sat down as well, clasping his hands together. “We’ve been getting reports of Hydra activity in various parts of the States.” He explained. “Specifically, they’ve been targeting civilians. They’re kidnapping them for, what we suspect, making experiments. They’re targeting people with no family, no friends or someone who wouldn’t look for them. They found the first body near the Donner Lake, in California. The first we were able to identify, at least.”
A picture of a woman appeared on a screen behind Tony, and he continued. “Taylor Harris. She was their first slip- up, as the woman had an ex husband and a kid. He divorced her because apparently she had an addiction to drugs and was physically abusive towards the kid. Ever since then, he got a restraining order against her and the full custody of the kid. Should have gone to jail but she went missing. She actually got missing three weeks ago, and she’s been presumably dead for at least a week.”
“What makes us think this is Hydra?” Clint said, his voice stern. The man had tried to retire about six times and yet there he was. “America is full of psychopaths.”
“True.” Tony nodded. “But they made some tests and traces of the Super Soldier serum was found. If it’s not Hydra, then I don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“I thought they had the Super Soldier serum already.” Thor frowned, his mighty Mjolnir always by his side. “Why are they kidnapping people?”
“They had something else. They weren’t able to recreate it after they used it on Bucky.” You said, looking at the God. “They tried everything to come close to it, but pretty much all the subjects they experimented on died. Some turned into… things. And eventually got killed when they didn’t comply. I was the only result they had.”
“So… they want another you.” Thor looked at you.
You shrugged. “They want a lot of things. Probably they’re looking forward to make something that can’t break out of their control.”
“If you were ever out of their control.” You heard him mumble those words under his breath, but no one else seemed to hear. You were used to it by now, so you stayed silent as the conversation between the Avengers went on.
“So what do we do?” Natasha sighed, crossing her arms under her chest. Both her feet on the table as it was a habit of her it seemed.
“We send undercover agents.” Tony answered. “The agents being you.” He gestured to the whole room. “Or half of you, the ones suited for the job.” He added.
“Great.” Clint grunted.
“Natasha and Clint, you’re assigned to Las Vegas, Nevada - don’t look at me like that. Fury’s orders.” Tony pointed at the annoyed may sat next to Natasha. All he wanted was some time to play golf, and he was always called in for a new mission. He couldn’t even hear properly anymore.
“Steve and Sharon, you lovebirds are going to Denver, Colorado.” He went on, reading the pair of agents from his phone. “Yelena and Kate, have fun in Lawrence, Kansas.“
“And then… oh. Emma and James, you’re going to Lincoln, Nebraska.” Tony put his phone down. “Sam is momentarily busy in California where they found the body, so for now this is everything. You guys will find other agents there, you’ll meet them once you arrive.”
“Why these cities?” Bucky asked, clenching his jaw. This was the first mission where he was paired up with you, and he didn’t like it one bit. But knowing Fury, there was nothing he could do to change it.
“Because that’s where SHIELD suspects Hydra’s activity. There are some bodies that have been found specifically in these places, they’re unrecognizable and have been there for longer than poor Taylor. They believe they have undercover agents there, so that’s who you have to find.” Tony answered, chewing some cashews he kept in his pockets. For some reason.
“When do we have to leave?” Yelena asked, snatching some cashews from Tony’s hands.
He glared at her before answering. “You’re needed there Monday morning already, I fear. You have today and tomorrow to pack your things and get out of my sight.” He got up from his chair. “Have fun, fellas.”
“Wait a second, what about me?” Wanda asked as Tony was about to leave the room.
“You’re the backup plan, Granger.” Tony chuckled at his own nickname for Wanda. “So are we. They find them, we step in to take them down. Plus I need someone to punch Loki in the face in case he tries something, you’re the only one strong enough to do it.”
“Hey!” Thor sounded offended. “Not the only one!”
“This place is awful.” Loki mumbled.
“Then leave.” Clint scoffed.
“You’re dismissed, children.” Tony walked out. “Try not to stab each other.”
“And boring too.” Loki added.
* * * *
“You’re supposed to fold your clothes before putting them into the bag.” Bucky’s voice remarked dryly, taking your attention away from your bag.
He was leaning against the doorframe of your room, looking at you sternly. As always.
“Thanks for the tip, Barnes.” You retorted, messily throwing a pair of pants inside the bag. You weren’t really having it, ever since you learned that Hydra was kidnapping people to do to them what they did to you. Except that those people had a life before. “What do you want?”
He walked into your room without even asking for permission and tossed a stack of paper on your bed. “The details of this mission and our fake identities, wifey.” He sounded quite calm but you could see he was pissed about it, he always was when it came to you. “Thought you may want to take a look.”
“Uh?” You frowned at the unusual nickname, picking up the papers and reading as fast as you could, until your eyes landed on the role you had to play.
His wife.
What a joke.
“Thanks.” You mumbled, as you felt his burning eyes on you. It’s nothing you haven’t done before with Sam or even Pietro, but pretending to love him and be all affectionate with him in public when this was the longest conversation you’ve ever had? That was gonna be interesting, to say the least.
He nodded and turn around to walk out, but before he actually left he couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “One wrong move is all I need, Dayne.” He said, and that sounded like a threat.
Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of frustration and anger bubbling within you. “If I wanted to screw you guys over I would have done it already. It’s been a year, Sergeant, I believe you could trust me by now. Or at least start to.”
“Trust is earned, not given.” He replied, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “And you haven’t earned mine.”
“I’ll fucking live with it.”
“Have a good night.” He said without meaning it in the slightest, before leaving you to yourself once again.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Bucky Barnes was your personal headache.
#bucky x reader#bucky bar ws#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky x oc#marvel#mcu#winter soldier#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#jbb#jbbarnes#avenger female reader#the avengers
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“With the countless comparisons between the younger lot of the heirs have been unfortunately quite unhealthy at times, but have inspired other royal families with younger heirs to not make those mistakes, like Leonor is gonna serve her for her country and then continue her studies a mistake Elisabeth made in her peoples eyes so shes taking military courses now. But you'd think the Danish or Dutch rf would learn a thing or two from all this but they're just too busy living off of taxpayers money.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Both Christian and Amalia as well as their respective royal families are either really immune and laidback which is why the immense backlash never bothers them or they simply don't care enough and only lift a finger to do some work or make a few appearances once in a while because they have to.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Ingrid Alexandra, Leonor and Elisabeth seem to be quite well prepared and thriving in their role while Christian and Amalia seem to really not care about anything else other than partying.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“If Danish people and Dutch people suddenly decide to turn against the monarchy I wouldn’t surprise me. Imagine having people who don’t work but still are paid from public money. Many mentions of Catharina Amalia and Christian not being prepared to their future duties. Amalia didn’t join the military forces like Leonor, Elizabeth etc and is always on vacations. Also I saw that the Danish kings want to be paid more??? For what?? Going on holidays all the time, having a king who was in a very public cheating scandal, not working enough etc… At least they should be more discreet. I feel like in a near future we will see the fall of some monarchies.” - Submitted by Anonymous
#princess leonor#princess elisabeth#crown prince christian#princess catharina amalia#danish royal family#dutch royal family
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Omg hi!! I was wondering if you could write maybe something will bill in like 2007-2009 with a girlfriend that's in the band? The rest of the band know they are together but the public doesn't know until they slip up(there was already signs but nothing was confirmed) and all the fan girls figure out , and they are already don't like the reader because shes a girl in a band with 4 guys, how would this affect their relationship?
I don't really request so I didn't know how to word this sorry
-🍰💫
ofc!! I hope that I understood your request correctly and that it turned out how you wanted! <3 ( this is btw my first ever fanfic on tumblr, so if there are any writing mistakes, I apologize 😭 english isn’t my fist language, but I’ll try my best!)
Complications
„How do you do that?“ I asked genuinely interested the twin brother of my boyfriend, who was just playing something on his guitar again. He smiled at me. „Years of practice,“ he explained, whereupon I started laughing. I would probably never learn an instrument, I was just too impatient for that.
Warm hands suddenly wrapped around my hip and I immediately knew who it was. My cheeks had received a visible pink tone and my lips twisted into a grin. I felt Bill’s breath on my neck, which he kissed lightly. „Where have you been, babe? I missed you,“ he mumbled, whereupon I had to giggle and went through his spiky, soft hair with my hand. I wondered every time, how his hair could withstand all the chemicals contained in the dyes and all the cans of hairspray.
I looked into his pretty, brown eyes. “Where I have been? Where have you been! I missed you as well.” I said grinning. He lifted an eyebrow and a little smile appeared on his face. “I was running away from screaming girls and flashing cameras, just a normal day.” He said, sighing a little. Tom made a weird sound, which made my head turn into his direction. He was looking at us.
“Well, you guys know that you can’t hide your relationship forever. Sooner or later, it will come out. They will always find out.” Tom said with a little concern in his voice. My stomach twisted in an uncomfortable way and I shared a look with bill. I was pretty aware of that and I knew, that it was just a matter of time until everyone will know about our little secret.
“I know, but as long as we can, we will keep it undercover.” Bill said and I nodded in agreement. “I think that you’ll can’t do that for long anymore. They’re already signs.” Tom said and grabbed a newspaper from this morning. He handed it too bill and Bill opened the paper to find the article about the rumors. I looked too and there it was. It wasn’t so large so it didn’t got much attention, but it was still there.
„Frontman of Tokio Hotel was seen suspiciously close with the star-girl of the band! Could there be a possible relationship between the two? Does it affect the band? ...“ The article was not very long, but it was still visible and you immediately saw, that it was Bill Kaulitz in the photos. I was only seen from behind and my face was not great to see, yet we were close to each other. Slowly I shook my head and looked desperately at Bill, who seemed thoughtful.
„Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we just dissolved it,“ I said, staring deep into the eyes of Bill, who also now looked at mine. He pulled his eyebrows together. „Yes, probably, but it’s not that easy. I don’t want to drag you in there.“ His voice seemed worried and slightly anxious, which immediately made my chest tighter. My hand found his cheek, which I gently stroked.
„Hey, everything will be fine, I’m sure of it. You don’t have to worry, Bill. I have you, I know you will always take care of me. You’ll see, everything will go great as soon as everyone knows!“ I said cheeringly, but Bill’s half smile he gave me didn’t reach his eyes.
My heart raced and I felt Bill’s hand holding mine tight. The black sunglasses only protect a little from the violent lightning storm, which took us from all sides. The next day had begun and our „little secret“ was no longer so small. Reporters stood on every corner, asking unpleasant questions that we avoided.
Bill kept looking down at me to make sure I was okay, but I was already used to it. I have been part of the band for two years now and since I joined the band in 2006, I have already been included in the world of the band.
„Just look! There’s his girlfriend!“ Suddenly screamed a girl, who had stood between the reporters and now behind her a huge crowd of fans came towards us. Fear spread in me and I now clung to Bill’s arm, who now also took faster steps. He bent down to me, which only made the snapping of the cameras louder.
„Don’t panic, we’re almost there,“ he said gently, which calmed me down a little, but still did not completely free me from the nervousness that was spread throughout my body. The last steps were now taken and we all quickly rushed through the door of the studio.
The first preparations for the new album were sue, which is why we had a lot to do and thus spent a lot of time in the studio. Bill sighed with relief when he took off his sunglasses and looked at me. I did the same. His hands now held my face, which immediately captivated me. „I love you,“ he whispered and now pulled me closer to let his lips dance passionately on mine. We ignored everything and it was nice until Tom’s call brought us to the here and now.
„Stop!“ He called and came up to us to pull us apart. Bill stared at his brother stunned and was just about to say something, but I put my hand on his mouth to stop him. It was dead silence.
„Bill,“ I whispered and took my hand from his mouth. „What-“ he stopped his sentence, when he looked in the same direction as me. A group of girls, all with their cameras, had caught us. In addition, a larger group of reporters. My shocked look was found by Bill, but he was exactly the opposite of me. He didn’t look shocked or scared. He looked rather relaxed and calm.
„It’s in the news.“ it now came from Georg, who had turned on the TV in the meantime. Goosebumps spread on my body and my hands found my face. „Shit.“ I murmured and now felt Bill’s cold hands, gently enclosed my hands and freed them from my face. A smile lay on his lips, which left me confused.
„Fuck it,“ he said, his eyes sparkled just like his black hair, which smoothly framed his head. „Everyone should know that you are all mine and I belong to you. From my sight, the whole world can find out! I stand by you and I think we should stop hiding our feelings. They will understand it sooner or later,“ Bill said and stroked his thumb over my open lips. He was right.
I blushed. „That was really sweet,“ I said smiling, which made him give me a toothy grin. He came closer and pulled me into a long kiss again. This time it didn’t matter that all the fan girls were still glued to the window and photographed and filmed every inch of our kiss, because we were no longer interested in the opinion of others. It only counted him and me, everything else was unimportant and I will proudly present, how much he means to me.
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#tua#tua spoilers#tua s3#the umbrella academy#klaus hargreeves#istg every season he hold key information to everything going on#and they just???? 🙈🙉🙊#they also don’t seem to learn from their mistakes#“omg klaus said the truth??? anyway my mind is a colander 🥰✨”#klaus deserves better
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Surrender
Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.
No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.
(Soulmate AU where Loki won)
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.
A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.
The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.
At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.
He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.
He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.
“Show me your wrist,” he says.
You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.
His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.
It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.
He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.
You do, of course. What other choice do you have?
*
The next several hours are a blur.
You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?
It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.
You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.
You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.
You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.
They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.
You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.
You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.
You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.
*
It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.
You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.
“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.
“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.
He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.
“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.
*
You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.
Or that was your plan, anyway.
Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.
The room is much colder at night.
You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.
You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.
You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.
But you also have to pee.
You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.
The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.
Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.
Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.
“Come to bed,” Loki says.
You clear your throat. “What?”
“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”
You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.
You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.
You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.
“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.
“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.
You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”
He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.
You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.
He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.
And after a while, yours does, too.
*
Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.
It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.
It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.
But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.
But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.
You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.
“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.
God fucking dammit.
You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.
“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.
He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.
“It won’t happen again,” you say.
It does.
This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.
But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.
Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.
The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.
The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.
This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.
You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.
You open a private browser window and pull up Google.
Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.
The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.
You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.
But only nearly and only for now.
*
The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.
Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.
You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.
Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.
When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.
The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.
The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.
Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.
But not yet. Not yet.
*
Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.
You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.
You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.
The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.
You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.
“You were calling out in your sleep.”
More heat prickles at your skin.
“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.
“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.
He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”
He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”
You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?
He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky.
“You flatter yourself,” you say.
You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”
Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”
Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.
“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.
“Nothing,” you say.
He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”
You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.
“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.
Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.
“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”
Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.
“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”
You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.
The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.
You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.
You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.
There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.
You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.
“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”
You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”
He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.
You barely manage a breathy affirmative.
“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”
“Please,” you breathe.
“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”
“Don’t stop,” you say.
“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”
You nod, slack jawed and panting.
“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”
You whimper, your hips rocking.
“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.
“I need to come,” you moan.
“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”
A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”
His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.
“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.
His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”
You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”
He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”
“Is it working?” you ask.
He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”
You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core.
You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”
Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”
You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.
“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls.
You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”
“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”
Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”
His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.
“Good girl,” he says.
And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.
You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.
You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.
You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.
The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.
“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.
You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.
So close.
“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”
You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.
Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.
It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.
He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.
“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.
“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”
It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.
“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”
He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.
Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.
Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.
He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature.
Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.
You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.
“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.
“Will you show me?” you ask.
“Every day,” he says.
It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.
He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.
You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.
But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.
“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.
You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.
Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.
You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.
But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.
Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.
“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”
There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.
“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”
You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.
“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”
“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”
You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.
In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.
“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”
A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.
You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter.
A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”
You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”
It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.
The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long.
As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.
“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”
“Getting close,” you breathe.
“I know, I can feel you,” he says.
You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.
“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.
It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.
He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss. He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.
“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”
You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.
“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”
He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.
“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.
Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.
“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.
You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.
“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”
You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”
Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.
Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.
His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.
You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.
Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.
For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.
#loki smut#loki x reader#loki laufeyson#loki imagine#loki x you#loki fanfic#loki x yn#loki x female reader smut#loki x female reader#loki x reader smut#loki laufeyson smut#loki fanfiction
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Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!
Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:
I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me.
I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to.
(I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.)
The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss.
She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview.
A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger.
I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else.
I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea.
What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?
Sir,
You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.
Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.
But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it.
I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.
#advice#bad advice#ask a manager#workplace#workplace advice#linkedin#bosses#working#developers#coding#fedoras#men#misogyny#workplace misogyny#hiring#job searching#employment
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— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.
✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?
(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)
✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.
✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.
✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)
also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them
aventurine.
his kisses are greedy.
he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.
he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he?
a kiss, for a kiss.
a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?
(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)
veritas ratio.
dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.
he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?
his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.
he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different?
oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him.
but you can take a challenge, can’t you?
jing yuan.
he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.
when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.
and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.
#—🖋#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#dr. ratio x reader#dr. ratio x you#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you
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The Other Woman
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Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.
Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader
Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel
—
A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!
I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!
Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.
I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!
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The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.
You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.
Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.
“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.
“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.
“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”
And the rest is history…
—
You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.
Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.
Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.
What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.
You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.
—
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.
“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.
You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.
“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.
“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.
“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.
“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”
You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.
“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.
He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?
“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”
It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.
You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.
“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.
You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.
—
It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.
His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.
It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.
—
You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.
You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.
Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.
“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.
“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”
You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.
The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.
“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.
“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.
“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.
“Y/N.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.
“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.
“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.
You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.
“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.
“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.
“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.
In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”
With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.
“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.
It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.
“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.
“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.
“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”
Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.
“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”
“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”
“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.
“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”
“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.
“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”
“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.
“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”
“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.
“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”
Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”
“Like a year ago for a mission…”
“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”
Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.
“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.
Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.
You were always just the other woman.
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Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~
would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!
EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara imagine#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara angst#spiderman imagine#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#x reader#spiderman#fanfiction#miguel o’hara fanfiction#spiderman x reader
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reputation - lando norris
pop star reader x lando norris social media au
part two - part three
a/n: lando did a very reputation-like helmet and the hamster in my brain started working. rep's songs are also very lando coded to me. faceclaim is soyeon from (G)I-dle
requests are open, but i may get to them late because uni is kicking my ass!
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f1waggossip
f1waggossip: McLaren’s golden boy seems to be newly single… at least that’s what the streets say, considering his last girlfriend, pop star Y/N L/N, has not been seen in months at the paddock following a very public fall out with her former girl squad, and consequent fall from grace from everyone’s eyes. They seemed in love. What do you think?
landonorrizz: honestly, i never understood the hype for her. she has always been a red flag and dramatic!!
mercedesgarage: i don’t get it lol i don’t follow her, what happened?
455chilli: basically she was friends with other singers, models and actresses and they have recently unfollowed her and exposed her for not being as great as everyone thinks
y/nforever: you mean she had a friend group who turned on her out of nowhere? lol what her ex friends have said is based on jealousy
landostareyes: it seems like they broke up but they were really cute together :// i kinda feel bad but she also seems to be the problem
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landonorris
landonorris: p2 cake babyyyyyyyyy
supremey/n: that is my y/n if i’ve ever seen her
formulaonegirl: so they’re still together
carlandocontent: it could be any girl tbh, it’s been months since lando has even mentioned her
papayaheart: it’s even worse if they’re still together and she just won’t show up to support him in races anymore lol
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y/nusername
y/nusername: Reputation. Out November 17.
Comments have been disabled.
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landonorris
landonorris: Are you ready for it? Reputation out November 17.
y/nlandodefender: nothing has ever been as iconic as a Y/N comeback special helmet i am in tears
landolove: reputation helmet to beat the breakup allegations wasn’t on my bingo card
supremey/n: I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT
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f1waggossip
f1waggossip: Y/N re-debuts at the paddock.
y/naura: ohhhhhhh i know some of y'all are MAD but my girl will stay thriving with the album of the year
softlylando: came back with a bang, goddamnnnn
mclarengirly: lando is definitely bagging a podium for her today!!
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landonorris
landonorris: i like her for her
y/nusername: Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me. 🖤
ferrariheart: shut up this is so cute
norrisreputation: mans really said we've been together all this time LMAO
babyfaceoscar: where is everyone who was calling her a red flag and saying her and lando didn't belong together?
dailylando: been real quiet since reputation dropped
magicy/n: i woulda stfu too after she released something like call it what you want, nevermind lando's promotion helmet LMAO
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y/nusername
y/nusername: The Reputation World Tour officially began and I can’t thank you enough for showing up for me, when I thought I couldn’t even show up for myself. I might make the same mistakes, burn bridges and never learn, but I know I did one thing right: have the best, most loyal fans. Also, it seems right to thank the man who inspired me to write way too many love songs for this album, the king of my heart, landonorris. 🖤
landonorris: i believe i was also called gorgeous and stuff
y/nusername: I am truly never complimenting you again
#f1#f1 au#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris smau#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris imagine#lando norris au#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n
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For a friend who wanted links to some posts I made about antisemitism, allyship, and how to support Palestine without being antisemitic—which is both possible and easy to do!
How do you know if you’re antisemitic?
How to be a good ally for Jewish people. I responded to a wonderful ask from @faggotry-enjoyer about how to be a better ally and to discuss Israel/Palestine with people who are inclined to distrust Jews due to unexamined antisemitism.
Important post about the dangers faced by Jews as an extreme minority. There are good examples in the reblogs and replies and tags—both of great ways for non-Jews to provide support as well as if antisemites denying their own antisemitism. Therese even one example of ways Jews can and do disagree with each other while remaining respectful without delving into antisemitism OR Islamophobia OR denying the rights and dignity of Palestinians. Jews can do this and so can non-Jews. But that can’t happen if people hate us too much to listen to anything we have to say.
The emotional toll of antisemitism on Jewish people.
Example of the death threats we get that are designed to make us look like bad guys.
If Jews can learn about the Holocaust in detail before we even reach the age of ten, you can and should too.
Don’t trust people who rely on bad sources. People do make genuine mistakes. Here’s an example of bad faith link sharing. Especially when Reblogging things. Even I don’t have time to always check every source in a post. Also, it’s possible that a link seemed legitimate when it was originally posted but the source is either no longer trustworthy or the OP got better at assessing sources. If an error in their original sourcing is pointed out, they should correct it publicly. If they are sharing a link as an OP they should always take time to be as responsible as possible.
There are plenty more posts under my #leftist antisemitism tag to look into about a variety of ways that antisemitism manifests in left wing circles.
Allies, please reblog with any posts you think relevant for a someone new to dismantling their antisemitism.
#antisemitism#leftist antisemitism#media literacy#master post#resources#Jewish goyim solidarity#israel#frequently referenced#start here#jewish palestinian solidarity
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desecration. (s.j)
the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.
minors dni !! | if you read it, reblog it.
WORDCOUNT ― 6.4k
PAIRING ― jake sim x afab reader
GENRE ― top/dom jake sim, characters are in their twenties, sub/bratty reader, religious kink/fetish
WARNINGS― mild dub con, desecration of holy a relic, inaccurate descriptions of whatever religion this is– im not doing research for a 5k fic that’s mostly smut, sorry.
NOTE― if you’ve read this before, it’s because I wrote it for mark lee over on my other blog [ncteez]. we wanted to make it jake, and by we i mean me. i wanted to read this as jake. sorry to religious ppl, don’t read this if you don’t wanna be railed by a hot guy wielding a cross.
smut tags under cut::
smut tags― DUB CON. use of the words: whore, slut, for the record, the cross is not raw wood and has a smooth finish, reader is first attempting to seduce the priest through confession lmao, she’s also just a massive whore just like me :), jake is the priest’s son, jerking off, penetration using a wooden cross, unprotected sex, spitting, choking on and/or sucking off a cross, degradation, and name-calling, he’s a godfearing man but also he likes sexual perversions, humiliation, explicitly getting fucked in a church, kind of fingering?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jake wonders why you’re always making confessions, time and time again, once a week, every single week….eagerly. Like you’re excited for your sin or something.
Huh.
Then again, once a week his father is expected to listen to confessions from the other churchgoers, even Jake himself is expected to confess. Often he will make up sins that he has committed just to seem as though he has been learning from some sort of mistake. Never would Jake actually tell his father through a confession booth what he has done or is willing to do. He’s an adult, he can confess whatever he wants.
You, on the other hand, you’re working his father to the bone in terms of forgiveness.
Jake’s interest piques at the very idea of a young woman, around his age, wanting to confess so much. Did you hurt someone? Does you hurt yourself? Did you kill someone? Or maybe you’re just caught up in a situation that makes you commit atrocities? He can’t even imagine what one person could be doing to elicit such an eager need of forgiveness so consistently.
Always the first in the box, always with those inappropriate outfits too.
Jake makes his way to the back of the church to complete his duties and, of course, he isn’t surprised to see you enter the confession booth. After all, it is the start of a new week.
Hushed whispers were echoing through the large space and only now does he realize that you almost always confess when the church is nearly empty. You must not be unaware of his presence at all, unaware that he is the son of the priest that you spill your sins to, and unaware that he can absolutely hear you when he walks closer.
He isn’t entirely sure why he is listening. The walls of this church echo any and every sound, and to be fair, the only reason his interest is piqued is because his father was silent from the moment you had entered the booth. All he heard was you. You didn’t seem to start the confession off in a proper manner either, so yeah, maybe it caught him off guard too.
His ears make attempts to adjust to the words coming from the booth, but your voice is coming out in a tone that he has never used himself when seeking salvation. Minutes pass and he still hasn’t heard his father speak a word back to you, not to encourage you, not to stop you. It’s just you, addressing dreams, visions, wants, and needs.
Certainly not confession. In fact, you’re actively sinning, attempting to seduce.
“I woke up shaking, Father. What should I do?”
Jake notes how quiet his father is still, despite you asking him what to do about the dream. His face sours when you continue to speak, this time in a slightly louder tone.
“I just can’t help myself sometimes, I–”
It’s not that it’s intentional, really, it isn’t. If anything at all, Jake is incredibly disgusted by your attempts to dirty talk during a confession. Disgusted that you’d do such a thing, and…maybe intrigued by what you may have said that he wasn’t quite able to catch before. He quietly moves to the other side of the booth, the side where you seem to be spouting off all sorts of things, and he raises his head to listen a bit more.
“You were big, you know? I can’t get thoughts of you out of my head. Have you ever touched a woman, Father?”
Jake leans in further, his body reacting more than his disgust. Unfortunately, his length growing in his pants ceases the moment his father cuts you off.
“Enough.” His father finally stops you from abusing the booth, from abusing him.
Not another word is spoken and Jake does his best to back away quickly and quietly as you exit the booth. Of course, he’s acting as though he is sweeping a corner when he turns to look at you. Eye contact is made and he can feel an intense rush of heat spread across his cheeks.
Ah, so you’re a whore.
His father stays inside of the booth for a long, drawn out, three or so minutes before exiting and all Jake can think about is if you walked out of the church soaked and warm between your legs. It’s not even that Jake is into sinning. He isn’t. His entire life was built around this church, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man. He has needs just like you do, apparently.
Never would he get what he needs from a woman as dirty as yourself, though, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and how your voice sounds when you were actively trying to fuck his dad.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“You’re disgusting.” Jake narrows his eyes at you when you pass by, spitting the words at you with a grimace.
“Excuse me?” You ask, stopping in your tracks and looking back at him just as harshly. You didn’t provoke him to speak to you at all, let alone fucking insult you?
“You think I can’t hear the way you speak to my dad during your little “confessions”?” He takes a step forward as he whispers at you, air quoting the word confession with a roll of his eyes.. “You really think he’s just going to take you up on the offer?”
Narrowing your own eyes, you step closer to Jake to stop anyone else from hearing his little tantrum.
“Wanna tell me why he always listens to my “confessions” then?” You question back, mimicking the air quotes and smirking as you walk away from him, not even letting him answer.
Jake watches as you leave, upset that he didn’t get a rise out of you at all and instead was offered a genuine question that sits in his mind. Why does his father allow you to make a confession after confession if all it is, is an attempt to seduce him? You’re even ashamed of it, it seems, and it pisses him off to no end.
Rushing after you, he is quick to grab at your dress and pull you back.
“Might as well just show up naked with the way you act around here,” He starts with a bite in his tone, dragging you off, down the hall and into a side room that usually remains empty.
He intends to put a stop to this because he’s heard several more of your confessions by his own will and learns that, apparently, your only sin is being a fucking slut.
“You have no place here.” He adds as he closes the door behind the two of you. Unintentionally locking you into a space that he’s directly saying you don’t belong in.
“Acting like you don’t think about fucking. Hah. We both know I’m not the only one,” You laugh, walking across the room with a shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been reprimanded in a church, and it probably won’t be the last. “Besides, your dad probably thinks about me late at night after tucking your grown ass into bed like a child.”
Jake narrows his eyes even more at you.
“Bet that pisses you off.”
“You’re ridiculous to think he would even want someone like you.” Jake scoffs harshly at you, gut bubbling with annoyance. “To think about sex this often too? I can’t imagine anyone would want to touch such a slut.”
You watch him walk towards you, with his perfectly tucked shirt and his darkened and angry eyes. Being alone with him doesn’t help his argument though because, in all fairness, he’s just as hot, if not hotter than his father.
“What about you then?” You ask, leaning against one of the shelves in the room, running your hand up your legs, and hiking your dress up a couple of inches.
“Your dad with his lingering eyes won’t admit to having ever touched a woman. Yet here you are.” You call out the priest’s lie with a snide chuckle before continuing. Fingers massaging your own fleshy thighs, watching the way Jake struggles with his own lingering eyes. “What about you? You ever fuck anyone?”
Jake grimaces, wrinkling his nose as he watches you.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He questions, stomping over to you and pushing your dress back down below your knees.
“Oh!” You laugh, ticking your tongue at him and tilting your head. “You said a bad word. Aren’t you going to ask for forgiveness?”
He stares at you for a few seconds, being face to face with a woman that seems so desperate for any touch has his heart racing. He’s trying to call you out, not turn you on.
“Can’t you act decent? I barely know you and you’re flaunting yourself at me.” Jake bellows, stumbling back from you and examining the way your body is relaxed.
You really seem to be enjoying this.
“You’re the one who pulled me in here. Was it really to argue with me, or were you trying to get to me before Father does?”
Thinking for a moment, Jake realizes he’s the reason this is happening. He could have just let you leave like everyone else, after all, you were attempting to go home. Here he is though, and there you are.
“He would never.” Jake laughs, mocking your attempts to pretend his father would be interested in you.
“And again, what about you?” You shoot back instantaneously, watching the way his words get caught in his throat.
He’s a weak man, truly, because the very thought of what’s under your dress, the very idea that you’re so willing, fogs his brain to the point of almost malfunctioning. It would be so fucking easy if he wanted to.
No one would even know.
Before you even know it, you can feel the air in the room change as he storms closer to you and rips your dress upwards to your waist. Instantly, he’s shoving his hand straight between your legs.
A small yelp leaves your throat followed by a laugh. Perfect.
“I knew it.” You giggle,�� bumping your head a bit against the shelf at the force of his movement. You can feel the way his palm cups your core and presses in harshly through his silent breaths. “I fucking knew you were dirty.”
“Stop,” Jake demands, bringing his other hand to cover your mouth. “Stop talking.” He continues, already pulling his hand from your core and second-guessing himself.
“If you want it so bad, I’m going to need you to shut the fuck up.”
You nod with a smile against his palm, breathing in when he pulls it back and trusts your ability to stay quiet. He’s staring directly into your eyes as if he’s threatening you. As if he will stop if you make a single peep. A promise that he will probably get you banned from the church if anyone were to find out what’s happening in this room right now.
At his darkened gaze, you poke your tongue out, licking his palm and watching him pull back in aroused shock at how unashamed you are regarding your arousal. But, you do stay true to your work and remain quiet once his eyes trail down.
He looks at you as if you’re some sort of monstrous entity, and for him at this moment, you probably are. But even with that, you see what’s growing in his pants before he lowers himself onto the floor. Positioning his face right in front of your clothed pussy.
What a dirty, dirty boy.
Jake can see the wet stain of your panties and all he can do is roll his eyes.
“You’re insane.” He laughs, eyes darting up to your face, looking at you like he wants to shame you. “Getting so messy in such a place, all for men who don’t fucking want you?”
You nod, wiggling your hips at him in an attempt to entice his lips to attach there. But he doesn’t. He just stands right back up to his feet and takes a step backwards.
“I bet if I left you here, you’d chase after me.” He mocks. “I bet you think I’m gonna stick it in you, don’t you?”
Proudly, you smile with a nod. Of course he's going to stick it in. You can see how hard he’s gotten. Sin or not, you know when a man wants to fuck you. Jake won’t be able to resist sooner or later, son of the priest or not.
“Wow,” He laughs quietly, shaking his head at you as he reaches behind a podium and pulls out a large, lacquered wooden cross. “You really are stupid.”
Great, you think as your face falls. He’s definitely about to start preaching to you with that stupid fucking cross. Maybe he will even attempt to perform an exorcism to expel the horny demons out of you.
“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, standing yourself up straight from against the shelf and patting your dress back down into position. “Don’t start this shit.” You’re already preparing to walk out without looking twice at him, but he laughs right back at you.
“You think you know everything.” He chuckles, walking towards the door and locking it. He stands in front of it now, crossing his arms and staring at you.
“Don’t I?” You ask, eyeing the way he presents himself to you right now.
“Did I not just imply that I wouldn’t use my cock on you?” He questions, twitching in his pants at the way you stand before him, much smaller in energy now.
He can tell you’re still trying to act brave, and it delights him to see the realization spread across that pretty, silent mouth.
Oh. Oh.
“You’re going to–?” You swallow hard, realizing that of all the sins you could commit, the implication of being penetrated with a cross, solely so this man doesn’t have to fuck a whore isn’t one you ever thought of.
This room doesn’t even feel like part of a church now as he holds the cross with more reason than praying.
“Yeah,” He assures you. “I am.” Stepping forward toward you and looming down at your face. “Now get on the desk.”
You don’t know why, but your body acts on instinct for him. Immediately walking to the desk and propping yourself onto it.
“Take off your clothes.” He demands again, watching you intently as he stays in place, rubbing the long end of the cross much like he’d like to do for himself right now.
God, watching such a stubborn woman do everything he says is…well, it’s new for him and it ignites a new type of arousal within him.
And you watch him back as you begin to slip your dress from your shoulders, lifting your ass so that you can push it down and onto the floor.
“Oh, now you wanna act shy?” He mocks, walking towards you as you attempt to tug at your panties. “And keep those on. No one wants to see that.”
Goddamn, you don’t even have the decency to wear a bra to service? Lucky for him though, your breasts are enough to drive him past the point of return. There’s no thought, fear, or prayer in his head right now as you reveal yourself to him. Going as far as trying to flash your pussy?
Oh, he could laugh.
You stay quiet, doing as you’re told and watching the way he examines you. He must feel so in control right now and you’re happy to let him, but you can see him falling apart behind his eyes.
His cock is incredibly obvious beneath his nice dress pants, but you wouldn’t dare reach out to touch him, not yet at least. You’ll let him have his fun, despite the slight nervousness within you regarding that cross.
“Open your mouth.” He says, dragging the cross against your nipples and onto your chin. “Suck it.”
You almost shake your head at him. Such a hard wood sliding down your throat would surely hurt. It’ll bruise, it’ll fucking suffocate you.
Jake doesn’t seem to care about any of that though, because all he does in response to your widened and fear-stricken eyes is press the wood against your lips with a face of concentration.
You purse your lips, muffling a displeased grunt at his acts.
“You scared?” He smiles first, pulling the cross away and now tracing his fingers along your lips before prying them inside and hooking your mouth open. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know how to suck.”
You relent this time, feeling the cold and smooth tip of the cross enter past your lips when he resumes his previous assault. It’s not that you are against doing it, you just…haven’t done it before.
You’re not exactly sure of how to respect a holy relic such as this one when you’re expected to choke on it.
“That’s it.” Jake coos, pressing the cross further into your mouth. “Open up real wide.”
You close your eyes at his voice, licking the smoothed object with an intensity you didn’t know you had. After all, it’s been so long since you’ve been intimate with a person, hence the constant wet dreams about your priest. This is somehow, incredibly hot to you. To have his son fucking your mouth, regardless of what object he’s using to do it.
Still, it does hurt. The intricate edges of the cross bruises each time it hits the clenching walls of your throat and mouth, but Jake seems to like the sound of you choking and sobbing around it. After all, he just continues to press the cross further and further in. Probably relishing in the way you try to swallow around it and relax your throat.
His eyes are so focused, seeing how much of it you can take and only imagining how good it would feel if it were his cock choking you right now. Despite your sputtering and crying eyes, you’re taking it so well.
Yeah, you’ve definitely done this before. Probably swallowed up some guy’s cum and begged for more despite still having a cock wedged in your throat. How lucky for them to have someone so desperate to be gagged.
“You’re filthy for doing this, you know that?” He laughs at your pain and how you don’t try to pull at his pushing hand, tipping the cross just a bit so that its hardened wood hits your throat in a way that hurts a bit too much.
You cough around it, only now pushing his hand back in protest. The tears are pouring from your eyes when the cross slides out of your mouth, and all you can do is blink up at him as you try to regain your breath.
Half expecting him to immediately hold your head in place just to shove the cross back in, Jake pulls back instead, tilting his head down to look at your panties.
Your legs instinctively cross to hide your arousal, but he prys your legs open regardless, forcing you to act as the whore you so wanted to be. For his father, for him, for anyone who would be willing, honestly.
You’ve gotten wetter.
“You’re so gross, I can’t believe you get off to this–” He laughs, feeling his cock begin to fucking ache. “You can take more, then.”
No, no. You don’t want to keep sucking it, but your mouth opens anyway. Too turned on by the idea of seeing Jake’s reaction to watching you be so dirty, so blasphemous.
The way he moans when you open your mouth willingly this time is…well, he looks fucking good. He sounds even better.
You take it into your mouth without so much as a second thought this time, allowing him to slide the cross back and forth against your tongue and into your throat. You willingly swallow around the harsh edges, tears falling all the while, of course.
You’re gagging so softly around it, he’s almost jealous over how you wanted his dad before you wanted him. Surely no one would do this for you, right? His father would never be with such a horny, needy, and dirty woman.
Jake though….shamefully, is very into it.
Into you, rather.
When he pulls it out this time, your saliva coats the cross in a way that nearly breaks his brain. Intensely, he stares at your lips, slack and waiting for him to continue his abuse. God, he’s so jealous. To think you would do this with someone else? With anyone? Anything?
It turns him on beyond belief, but feeling jealous of the fucking cross isn’t exactly something Jake wants to admit. His father? Sure, whatever. But a relic he’s prayed to his whole life? Growing resentful of it just because you take it down your pretty and bruised throat?
No.
Jake shifts now, unable to satiate the arousal within him without grabbing your hand and forcing you to grope his hidden cock. So hard, so fucking hard, he nearly lets out his own sob at the euphoric touch when he actually does it.
You’re a bit shocked that he’s letting you touch him, but you take the opportunity and run with it. You press your palm against him without any amount of shame, and all you can do is watch as he hangs his head, the saliva coated cross still gripped in his other hand.
“Bet you wanted to fuck my mouth.” You croak out, your voice sounding just as raw at your throat. “Bet you wanted me to take all of it and beg for your cum.”
His head shoots up in response to that as he grabs your face harshly, bucking against your hand at the same time. “Stop talking.” He seethes, releasing your face and inserting his fingers into your mouth instead. “Stick your tongue out.”
You do as he says, feeling his heavy cock twitching against your palm with each press.
Jake seems like an expert at this, you aren’t sure, but when he presses your tongue down with his fingers to open your throat up, he spits into your mouth so easily that you have no choice but to swallow it.
Well, okay. He could probably get away with doing that a few more times if he wanted to.
You moan when you swallow, lending him a dopey smile that shocks him. You weren’t supposed to like that in his eyes, but when you grab his cock in response rather than just palm at it, he can’t help but moan back at you.
His fingers continue to hold your tongue down as you jerk him off over his pants, and his hips stutter all the while until he loses all composure. Within a second, he stalks even closer, slamming both hands against the desk on either side of you and leaning forward to pin you there.
And then he grinds forward against your weak hand, pinned between him and the edge of the desk.
Yet still, he’s gripping that fucking cross as he pins you here.
“You want me to fuck you so bad, I can see it.” He croaks, not even allowing you to offer him a nod before he’s got his lips attached to yours and he’s licking into your mouth. It feels impossibly better than that cross pressing against the back of your throat but you swallow his kiss just as easily.
His hips continue to grind as he licks into your mouth like a man who doesn’t know how to kiss at all. So rough and messy with it, groaning more and more before he’s nearly a panting mess before you. He pulls back from the kiss only for a moment to stare at you, eye contact more fierce than it was before.
“I think you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” You manage to slip out before he can silence you again, and his eyes narrow instantly.
More than anything, that’s what he wants to do to you. He wants to shut you up in as many ways possible right now, and he definitely wants fucking you to be one of those ways. But he can’t, and he won't.
“Hah–you’d love that.” He laughs, reaching his empty hand between the two of you to press his pants down enough to let his cock spring free.
You can’t even get a good look at it, because he’s instantly grabbing himself and fucking his fist before looking back up at you.
“Go on, look.” He says, leaning a bit so that you can watch him jerk off in full view now. “Bet you’d beg for it if I told you to.”
“Please?” You instantly let out, eyes staring at the angry head of his cock leaking and pulsing.
“I didn’t say to actually beg–” He groans, halting his hand and instead, thrusting his hips into the tightly formed hole he’s created. “I’m not going to fuck you.” He laughs again, now pulling the cross back and into your view with a wicked smirk.
Of course. The cross. Well, at least you’re going to be fucked with something right?
You eye the piece of wood and then go back to watching him. You’re not sure what it is about this situation but it feels like your body is on fire. Maybe it’s because hell is right beneath you, just a floorboard away from what the two of you have gotten yourselves into behind this locked door.
“Oh?” He halts his hips and licks his lips. “You actually want me to fuck you with this?”
You nod frantically, spreading your legs in front of him and showing off how large the spot on your panties has grown since he last inspected it. You watch as his eyes practically burn a hole through your pussy.
Only then does he release his own cock and look back into your eyes. More seriously this time when reality and guilt clicks in his head.
“You are aware of what we are about to do, right?” His confidence falters blatantly as he glances at the cross. “Like, if you ever tell my dad about this, I will be disowned.”
“You think I’d snitch on you?” You roll your eyes, body nearly shaking to get fucked. God, why does he have to stop now?
“Well, since you’re so inclined to confess every fucking day–”
“Jake, you literally just fucked my throat with it.” You deadpan, hooking your legs around him to pull him close enough to feel his cock hit your wet panties. “You’re the dirtiest one here, I’m not going to give that up just to see you get disowned.”
He laughs at you for that. Because yeah, maybe he is. Maybe he’s the one who shouldn’t be in church, and maybe he’s the one who should have been confessing this whole time. Never in his life has he ever done this, or so much as imagined doing it, it’s so perverse. So, wrong. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what’s attractive about it.
For some reason, his cock jumps when you say you’re not giving him up because he’s dirty.
“And–” You soften your voice, trying to lure him. “You don’t have to use the cross, you know.”
“No.” He barks out, pulling his hips back and pressing the cross against you instead. “Now, keep your legs open.”
He gets right back into it without a second thought. He doesn’t care what he’s doing or what the repercussions of doing this will be. It’s not like he wasn’t going to hell before any of this, not based on the fantasies he’s had anyway.
Jake hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs harshly, to the point that they’re stretching so far that it feels like they could cut through your skin. He backs away for a moment upon seeing you grimace at that, allowing you to slip them down your legs before positioning himself back between them.
“I’m dirty?” He says, looking at your pussy and the way it clenches around absolutely nothing. He sees the slick seeping out of you already, and it’s not only pathetic but so fucking desperate of you. “Fucking look at that.”
You smile at it, knowing that he’s degrading you but absolutely loving the view if his focused eyes are anything to go by.
Before the cross, he experimentally traces his fingers along your folds until he gets to your hole, and without hesitation, he slips one of them in. The grip of your walls alone could probably send him over the edge if he were to make a last-minute change and shove his cock into you, but he holds back. Instead, he traces the cross against you in the same way he did with his fingers, slowly inserting it alongside his digit.
Pulling back, Jake watches your face as the cross opens you up, probably dragging against your walls uncomfortably as a reminder of the ultimate sin you’re committing with him right now.
When your face doesn’t contort into that of pain, he pulls his finger out of you and places his hand back on his cock. Still staring at your face, he fucks the cross in and out of you. Relishing in the sound of how wet you are for this, and for him to give it to you.
He does this until, finally, you moan.
Upon that little whimper of a moan, Jake is sent into a different headspace. One that quickens his pace with the object inside of you, one that tightens the grip on himself.
Now, oh now, he’s playing for fun. He presses it in and then pulls it all the way out just to see your pussy beg for more. Holding back a moan over how fucking hot it is to see, he opts to coo out at you.
“Bet it would feel so good.” He breathes, trying to ignore the shiver that shoots through his body at the way you yearn for it. “Could shove my cock right in, you’d just take it, wouldn’t you?”
Before you can answer, he’s thrusting the relic right back into you. In, out, in, out. Deeper, harder, fucking faster. And he offers the same for himself, tightening his fist, nearly abusing his own cock at the sight of your swollen hole swallow up the wood. Really, he makes a point to fuck himself just to imagine it’s you that’s squeezing him.
If he thinks hard enough, it really is almost like he’s the one fucking you.
He keeps this up for a few minutes, up until your legs are shaking around him and you begin to reach out with your hands. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s incredibly fucking horny right now, he’d probably be rushing for the altar to save you from whatever demon is possessing you.
But, he knows that this is no demon, this is all his own doing. He’s loving it. Every single bit of this situation is being burned into his memory, and when your legs shake, it only urges him to fuck the object into you harder.
You whimper out strings of nonsense, almost begging for a release from this grasp he is holding over you both physically and mentally, but he doesn’t relent. Your pathetic cunt is being pounded by an object that should have you crying in fear, but instead, you’re so close to release you can only beg for more, more, fucking more.
And god, he keeps giving it to you.
In an attempt to open your eyes, you feel dizzy with lust. Your hips buck up against the object with intent, and you can’t stop watching him.
“Goddamn.” Jake stutters a sin, watching you fuck yourself against the holy relic. Thankful to rest his arm and be able to just…watch.
And oh, he’s watching and intensely imagining that it’s you on him. He can’t stop thinking about how fucking warm you must be, how tight, how sinfully delicious your pussy must be for you to be acting like this. And that thought is what forces him to lose it.
You were so focused, on the verge of your orgasm when you feel him practically tear the cross out of you, dropping it to the floor before – oh fuck.
You feel him. Something bigger, something thicker ramming into you. He’s prying you open more than he did previously, already pumping in and out at a frantic speed. Instantly, you cling onto him with a bruising grip, listening to his shameless moans as he realizes the lack of control he has over his own body or thoughts.
Jake practically falls over you in euphoria as you cling, forcing you to fall back against the desk as he relentlessly plunges his hips. His breath is heavy against your neck as he loses himself, and all you can do is thank the same god you just disrespected for this cock that’s abusing your hole in all of the right ways.
“I can’t–” He groans out against your ear, his hips not stopping their relentless assault. “You’re so fucking dirty.” He insults, pushing you up the desk with each thrust. “So good.”
You can barely make a sound from the force behind his hips, only small yelps leaving your throat each time he slams in. And fuck, you want nothing more than to rub your clit right now. You could cum all over him, you could really make him feel good.
And as if your prayers are answered, Jake apparently knows exactly how to pleasure a woman. Hm, curious. He knows how to do it fucking well too, as you feel his fingers rub against the swollen nub in the exact same way you would right now. Painful, intense.
The fact that he wants you to cum is delicious.
Your orgasm hits you almost instantly, pussy sucking in him each time he goes to thrust, and the sounds coming from your throat could be considered demonic by some, but he swallows them up with ease when he notes that you’re cumming all over him.
Jake licks into your mouth, soothing you with dirty words when he pulls back to breathe.
“You should see yourself–” He pants out, sticking his tongue out to lick against your lip. “Getting me all messy too?” He says again through a moan. “You’re beautiful.” He adds like a period at the end of a sentence.
That alone makes you feel…different. In fact, it prolongs your orgasm far past sensitivity when he continues to thrust into you. You can’t tell if he said that because he’s close, or if it’s because he meant it.
Quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck if he meant it.
Jake stutters his hips when you lift your head just slightly, gripping his hair and skewing his head to the side so that you can whisper into his ear.
“Want me to beg for your cum?” You whisper with a shaking voice. “You’d love that too, wouldn’t you? I know I would.”
His eyes squeeze shut as he aggressively turns his head and, once again, pries your mouth open with his tongue. A bruising kiss follows as he fucks his last few thrusts into you, doing just as you implied he should.
He pumps his cum into you relentlessly, thankful that it’s not all over his pants and entirely milked into that sinful cunt of yours. Thankful that you also got off around him instead of that forgotten cross on the floor.
He wants nothing more than to remind you time and time again who got to you first. It was him, not his father.
You smile at him when he pulls back out of breath, examining his pants before stuffing his sensitive cock back into them and reaching down for the cross.
“If you ever fucking tell my dad about this–” He seethes out of breath, trying to pretend that he can regain composure so soon after fucking you the way he just did. Still, he narrows his eyes at you much as he had done before.
“Go on.” You say, voice shaking as you try to grasp back onto reality from whatever world his cock had sent you into.
Jake is at a loss for words, because, what could he possibly do about it if you were to tell? He looks at you, still spread out against the desk, dress crumpled, his cum seeping out of you in a messy show of how much of an absolute whore he forced you to be.
“Just, don’t tell him.” He finally says, averting his eyes from you and looking at the cross in his hand.
“Do you feel bad already?” You ask out, finally lifting to get off of the desk.
“Don’t you?”
You shake your head, struggling to stand as the seething pain of having a wooden cross stuck into you shoots through your body. “Not really.” You try to laugh, but you wince instead.
“Yeah, I figured you’d probably be hurting after all of that.” He finally says in a somewhat apologetic tone, walking up to you with a soothing hand.
You’re a little shocked by his kindness.
“Yeah, a little.” You laugh it off though because, at the moment, it felt good. You wouldn’t have wanted it any other way despite how blasphemous the act was.
“Oh.” Jake seems sorrowful in his tone, but his gaze doesn't leave you. “I- um, I don’t know how to make it like, not hurt?” He scratches the back of his head.
In your attempt to put your dress back on, you do note that the pain inside of you isn’t unfamiliar. You’d been fucked hard before, but that was a long time ago. You missed this feeling, realizing that it was exactly what you think you needed.
“It’ll pass.” You assure him, taking a deep breath and trying to stumble your way to the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”
Jake dips his head with a small nod, feeling guilty for what he’s done. Not because of the cross, not because of the sin, but because he’s unsure of how to pretend like he wouldn’t want to do it again.
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hi! could you write prompt 6 from the angsty dialogue prompts for the climacteric event? fem/gn reader whatever you prefer, i was thinking that reader finds out something about spencer and it results in this messy situation, but honestly how you want to do it is all up to you!
JEALOUSY [CLIMACTERIC]
6. “Don’t touch me.”
WARNINGS: spencer is a bit of a twat but apologises profusely afterwards, arguing, happy? ending
spencer reid x gn!reader || angst || 2.5k || event masterlist!!
main masterlist!!
a/n: majority vote chose this one to come out first 🫶 they also chose for it to have a happy ending bc y’all are really boring /j (i love you guys you aren’t boring i swear 🫶)
Spencer Reid grew up too fast.
He was remarkably smart for his age, that much was a given, but in terms of emotional development Spencer was forced to skip what should’ve been his childhood.
He didn’t get to experience what it felt like be praised over a rudimentary piece of ‘art’ by his parents, because he was ‘too intelligent’ for that.
He didn’t get to go out on a Saturday morning with his father to learn how to play a ball game because his dad was never around.
He didn’t get to be coddled by his mother when he cried because by the time he was nine he was her full time carer.
Ironically, his childhood was an era of time where he could barely remember a single detail, despite his renowned eidetic memory, and it only seemed to further prove that Spencer Reid’s childhood didn’t exist.
All he could remember was what didn’t happen. The key milestones of his life that he never got to live through.
To say that impacted his emotional availability was an understatement. Spencer had never been one to ask for help from other people, but in instances where he really felt like he was about to fall apart it was even worse. He’d grown up with the expectation that he was responsible for his own well being. That him and him alone was the only thing that could get him through whatever dark patch that he went through.
He didn’t need anyone else. He wasn’t allowed anyone else. It was just him, always.
You were decidedly the opposite. You wore your emotions on your sleeve, and for the most part, Spencer found it entirely refreshing to watch you be able to express yourself with no holds barred and no internal monologue telling you that what you were doing was wrong.
Sometimes he wished he could do the same.
There were times of his career where he wished you’d do something wrong, that you’d make a mistake or cross a boundary and it’d allow him to exert all of the anger and deep-seeded jealously he felt whenever he saw you be so open with yourself.
He knew it was horrible of him, and more often than not the minute those thoughts invaded his mind he thought of nothing more than how much of a terrible person he was. He was wishing ill on you just because you’d managed to have a healthy emotional output.
Because he was inherently broken from all the years of keeping everything to himself.
“Are you okay?”
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of your voice, gaze turning upwards from the mug of coffee sitting on the kitchenette counter to meet your face, covered in worry lines as you furrow your own eyebrows.
He hated when you looked at him like that. Like he was something to be pitied.
“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer presses his lips together in an awkward line of a smile, a staple of his character that seemed much less genuine than usual from your point of view.
“You’ve uh- You’ve been stood here staring at your mug for almost five minutes,” Spencer flickers his eyes up to the analogue clock on the wall at your declaration.
You were right, he’d been stood in a state of dissociation for almost a whole five minutes without realising it. Great, that’s just wonderful. Like his life couldn’t get any worse.
“Everything’s fine,” He gives you another one of those awkward smiles as he takes his mug in between both of his hands, the ceramic barely even warm anymore, which tells him that his coffee isn’t hot enough for him to actually enjoy it, but right now he’d take a cup of warm coffee over standing here talking to you about his ‘feelings’.
But you’ve never made things easy.
“It’s not though is it? Something’s wrong Spencer, everyone in the office can tell,” You sigh softly at the indignation on his face as you prod at what’s going on inside his head. “We’re worried about you…” You reach out your hand slowly to lay it on his arm, and he pulls away from you without a second thought.
“Please don’t touch me,” He takes a step to the side, clearly trying to bypass you and get back to his desk so he can escape the conversation. “I said I’m fine.”
“And you’re lying Spencer.” You step in the same direction that he does, effectively blocking his path out of the kitchenette. “We need to know what the issue is or we can’t help you Spencer,” Your voice is tinged with a small amount of desperation, and it irks Spencer in a way that he can’t even fully comprehend.
“You want to know what the issue is?” He puts his mug back down on the counter with enough force that small droplets of coffee spill over the rim and onto the granite underneath it. “It’s you.”
He leans forward slightly like he’s trying to emphasise his point. “You are the issue.”
His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and all of a sudden you’re regretting caring so much.
God you’re beginning to regret even waking up this morning. Maybe that would’ve spared you from the stake in your heat that was Spencer Reid explicitly telling you that you were the sole reason why he was acting differently. Why he was being cold and distant from the team and their genuine want to just make sure he’s okay.
Because they couldn’t do that. Because you were a part of the team. And as long as you were there that coldness wouldn’t go away.
“Right…” You press your lips into a line. “Sorry for asking.”
Spencer regrets what he said almost as soon as the words come out of his mouth. He watches as that usual sparkle of compassion in your eyes literally fizzles out right in front of him, and all of a sudden he feels like an absolutely horrible person.
As you turn to leave he reaches out a hand to stop you. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, how could he possibly redeem himself after a comment like that? But his body runs on autopilot and all he knows is that he needs to apologise to you. “Wait—”
“Don’t— touch me Reid,” You pull your arms further into yourself to stop him from reaching out to them, and he swears his heart breaks at the sight of you being dismissive. And then there was the added blow of you using his surname to further distance yourself from him and making him want to cut out his tongue so saying something so rash with absolutely zero provocation. “I understood you the first time.”
It was a complete turn of your character, all semblance of warmth and vulnerability evaporated and replaced with a cold, hard shell that Spencer could see calcifying behind your eyes.
“I-“
“I’ll leave you be now.”
And with that you disappear around the corner, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. His terrible thoughts that rightfully pummel him into the ground for so much as suggesting that you could ever be a problem.
—
When you said you’d “Leave him be”, he didn’t think it meant you’d literally avoid him like the plague. God you’d even roped Emily into switching desks with you so you wouldn’t have to sit opposite him anymore.
How was he supposed to grovel for your forgiveness if you wouldn’t so much as spare him a glance?
How was he supposed to explain to the team that the reason the two of you suddenly weren’t talking to each other was because he’d fucked up so badly that he felt like he was going to implode?
And most importantly, how on earth was Spencer Reid supposed to make you listen to him so he could explain himself and try to reconcile with you?
He’d considered cornering you in the break room, or catching you in an elevator on your way to the parking lot, but he knew that would only make things worse.
He’d considered turning up to your apartment your favourite snacks and begging you to let him inside, but that would be weird and borderline stalkerish.
He was really running out of ideas, and the longer he went without saying something the deeper he felt he was being pulled into the pit of despair that he’d dug himself to the point where he wasn’t sure if he as going to be able to claw himself out of it.
He had to speak to you. And he had to make sure that you didn’t run away.
The opportunity practically handed itself to him during a case. He knew budget cuts would mean that the team paired up when staying at a NYC hotel, and after some under the table begging for the other team members to room with each other so you didn’t have any choice but to room with him, he took his chance.
There was a very obvious blanket of tension between the two of you as you entered the room together, your apparent vow of silence continuing as you dump your bag on one of the twin beds to claim it as your own before shutting yourself into the bathroom to ready yourself for sleep.
He could tell that you weren’t happy about the arrangement, and despite how much you were distancing yourself from him you still wore your emotions on your sleeve, and right now they were telling him that you would literally rather be anywhere else.
You skirt past him as you exit the bathroom in your pyjamas, leaving your clothes and your bag on one of the decorative chairs to climb into bed with the continued silent treatment you’re serving him.
Spencer sighs dejectedly as he watches you take a seat on the edge of the bed with your back to him. “Can we talk? Please?”
“What is there to talk about?” Your voice washes him like a cold shower, your vocal chords dipped in ice and your words a perfect combination of blunt and dismissive. He can’t see your expression as you speak, but has a pretty good idea of the furrowing of your eyebrows and the narrowing of your gaze.
“I want—” Spencer lets out another sigh, raking his fingers through his hair in internal frustration. “I need to apologise to you. What I said was horrible and I’m sorry,”
“I don’t forgive you.”
As much as the words cut through his heart like a knife, he can’t blame you.
“I understand… I just wanted you to know that I really regret what I said, and that it’s been tearing me up thinking about it,”
“Right…” You let out a short, sarcastic laugh that causes Spencer’s eyebrows to furrow. “Because it’s all about you right?”
“That’s not what I—”
“Goodnight Reid.” You punctuate your sentence by shutting of the lamp on your side of the room, officially putting an end to your side of the ‘conversation’.
Spencer wasn’t done with it quite yet.
“I’m jealous of you. That’s why I said that ‘you were an issue’. You’re not. I am the issue and I was projecting it on to you. That was unfair of me and I need you to understand that I am apologising to do right by you, not to make myself feel better.”
“You have no reason to be jealous of me Reid,” You still haven’t turned to face him, but he’d rather be talking to your back than not be talking to you at all.
“Please stop calling me that..” Spencer lets out a small breath at the end of his sentence, words tinged with a small amount of desperation. He didn’t want to be ‘Reid’ in your mind, he wanted to be Spencer. “I have a lot to be jealous of when it comes to you,” Admitting his faults outright made him feel nauseous, but he needed to break this brick wall you’d built around yourself when it came to him.
He couldn’t stand being an outsider in your life.
“I mean, you’re sweet, kind, you have an inherent knack for social situations that I could only dream of possessing,” He takes a small break in his sentence to nervously chew on the inside of his lip. “and your emotional vulnerability makes me so jealous of you that I want to just—” He exhales sharply.
“It’s very easy to be jealous of you,”
There’s a small pause after Spencer’s confession, tension lingering in the air as he watches you aimlessly fiddle with the edge of the sheets whilst you debate how to respond.
“Those are stupid things to be jealous of,”
Spencer physically deflates at your answer. “They’re not, people like you are envied because you’re so open with yourself, that’s something not a lot of people have, myself included,” Spencer takes a small step forward, cautious about scaring you off if he approached too quickly. “even if I wish I did..”
He places a deft hand on your shoulder and you jolt at the contact.
“I’m really sorry.” His voice drops to a point where it’s almost inaudible, and you swear you can hear his voice catch as he tries to maintain his composure. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore… please,”
You let out a small sigh of indignation, and Spencer knows he’s won you over. “Fine,”
“Thank you,” He gives your shoulder a small squeeze, and you return it with one of your own as you rest your hand on top of his.
“I’m still angry with you,”
“I know…”
“You’ve got a hell of a job making up for it,”
“I know,”
“Good,” You finally turn to look over your shoulder at him, and Spencer is glad to see that your expression isn’t one of loathing or frustration. “Get some sleep Spencer,”
“Okay…” He gives you a soft nod and a half-awkward smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue one that fills him with more contentment than it probably should. “Goodnight…” He hesitantly pulls his hand from your shoulder to walk back to his own hotel bed, walking as you tuck yourself into yours.
“Goodnight Spencer, we’ll talk about this in the morning,”
“Yeah… Thank you…”
Spencer flicks off the lamp beside him, relaxing as the room is shrouded into darkness and allowing himself to get the first proper night of rest he had in weeks now that he’s finally made his peace with you.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#mgg#climacteric 🪶
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Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll down for its corresponding message about the pov of your spirit guides and their message to you
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Pile One
I feel like your relationship with your guides is like “hide and seek”. They have an old presence in your life. Even if you are just now beginning your spiritual journey or are just now having the urge to seek out more about them and who they are, it seems as if they have always been in your life, and already have a connection or have had close contact with you. Specifically when you were a kid. Perhaps you’ve had “imaginary friends”, repetitive encounters with the same person or entity in your dreams, or have parents who recall you being distracted and smiling a lot at what appears to be mundane things as a baby. I call this hide and seek, because it’s like a lot of your occultic knowledge or experience psychic gifts were things that you’ve already learned as a child, but were conditioned to move away from for whatever reason. Your stunted relationship with your guides could appear in interests that you also had to separate from, like studying mythology, an interest in plants but also marine animals, gaming, drawing comic book characters, collecting items for yourself but stopping because someone considered that as not intellectual or important, and even crafting things yourself, regardless of how good you were at it, but because it gave you peace and happiness. Your guides see you as their family, they protect you like they are your parents, because their love for you is like having a child. They love it when you’re being silly and they love to sneak in silly things for you, to let you know that they’re here and when something is going to be ok. Maybe you use dark humor frequently as a way to cope with something that you’re struggling with or when you think about the ways that you’ve been let down in the past. You joke that way because you feel that it’s the only way to have some control in a situation that you predetermined will go down hill and be the end of you. You could talk to yourself or talk about your life in a way that is self-loathing and impeded, but your guides work and send you messages meant to bring you back up whenever you’re losing your determination to keep going. They’ll joke with you, but not in a way that encourages you to lose hope or to fail in seeing the good in yourself. It’s more like instead of showing you to laugh at yourself, you laugh at your mistakes, or you laugh at how crazy other people can be when they displace their negative inner feelings onto other people to show that it has nothing to do with who you are, what you do, or what you look like. Money is strong in this pile. This could be a message saying that you won’t have to fear about money forever and that a financial breakthrough is going to happen for you and you’re going to be financially stable doing something that you love or are currently building to support your living situation. However, mainly, I’m getting that in your spirit guides’ eyes, they’ve watched you grow up feeling less than because you didn’t grow up with a certain luxury, maybe you grew up in poverty, felt insecure about the things that seemed so easily accessible to everyone but you, or don’t know what it’s like to have a loving parent, but your guides have always seen you as a rich person and it has nothing to do with material items. They see you as brilliant, you work so hard for what you have and you’ll see the results multiply in the future, even if you struggle to find the right words for yourself–You always know what to say to others about stuff that they struggle to see within their own lives.
Pile Two
Your strongest clair could be clairaudience. If not, then it feels like you guys are good with picking up things by what people or say, or you have a strong intuition for what isn’t visible or said, but you have a poor time going forward with your intuition. When you get “right”, you tend to go left, then regret what you find out because you didn’t listen to what was initially divinely given to you. Your guides are nature beings, you can connect with them through plants but also relics or shrines. I keep getting inanimate objects, so you could have a few deities that govern planets, like moon goddesses watching over you. I feel that the connection that you have with your guides is like Yue from Avatar: The Last Airbender. You mirror each other and embody dark feminine energy. They’re gentle, ancient, and wise. People think that all spirit guides are like that, but no. Guides have personalities of their own, and not all are good. They see you as loving, maybe too loving, meaning you love without boundaries which could cause you some pain and a lot of repressed anger. You may not like to be perceived or put on a pedestal, but they do, because they truly see what’s in your heart. You just need guidance. They accept you for your good and bad traits, but it doesn’t mean they don’t lead you into improvement and learning to take accountability. You can be sweet, but you can also be bitter. They feel hurt when they see that you’re hurting, but they don’t want you to hold on to bitterness because people that harmed you will see that again and it’s not your business as to when. I will say that this isn’t to mistake them as peace and turn the other cheek, because they are not. They are wrathful behind the scenes towards people who hurt you or even think about hurting you. They’re very protective over your life, but there are some things you have to do to look after yourself since you guys are from two different worlds. This pile feels extremely hazy. They say that you are so smart, beautiful, and talented, but you have trouble seeing this and it pains them. You have potent manifesting abilities that range from making things happen yourself with your skills to knowing how to conjure with spirituality. It’s like you can create and create, but that’s still not enough for you, even when you are likely to top the latest thing you achieved. You need to learn how to rest and also be okay with yourself. There’s this habit of working and studying a lot for credentials, but still feeling less confident, leading you to give your power away to people who are boastful. This is a problem if you are psychic and are trying to find your way in spiritual communities or communicating with other spiritual people. Stop falling for words that convince you that someone knows more occultic knowledge than you or about your own personal journey and intuition. This is also a message for people to stop shying away from making content or starting a business in the occult because you fear that other people are better than you when that isn’t true, and stay away from people who influence you to think like that because they are not your friends or someone to trust.
Pile Three
You guys could have a lot of ancestral type spirits in your team and are probably reincarnations of ancestors in your past bloodline. You guys are cycle breakers and reapers of work and good karma that’s been gained in the spiritual world, meaning lots of inheritances, especially if you have passed down closed spiritual practices. This pile reminds me of the 4h-10h axis in astrology, each house rules over many different things but what sticks out that relates to this reading is the fourth house dealing with ancestors and the 10th house dealing with your public reputation. A lot of celebrities are famous because they have strong ties with their ancestors who are well respected spirits. People in this pile are destined for blazing success and fame. This can reveal itself in different professions, that could be but are not limited to, writers, actors, singers, entrepreneurship or something related to public speaking. Even though I feel practitioners and believers of spirituality in this pile, especially since this is a tarot reading, there’s a lot of skepticism here. There’s not enough trust or belief and this could be upsetting to your guides, they’re able to see things beyond your present reality which could make them patient, you could even be an impatient person, but it seems like both of you need to allow time to do its thing. Your guides see what you’re capable of, and before you are finally able to see it if you don’t already, they don’t want you to become arrogant and feel like potential is enough to back you up. They believe in putting in the work. They also see that you’re traditional even though you don’t want to be. You guys could be raised around a religion where witchcraft is shunned upon, and speaking about ancestors is discouraged which could explain the impatience. This could also be interpreted as you seeing this success but frustration over how far away it feels or how impossible it could be, and it’s like they see you as being dramatic or frantic about things that are going to inevitably work out. There was a message that I channeled for pile one and didn’t mention but I’m receiving it strongly here instead. It’s like things could be taking their time because you have to learn self-control. They don’t want you to let money and social climbing get into your head and make you forget where you come from, humility, and being in community with others. The fame and success isn’t given for you to hoard, but so that you can continue spreading the blessings to others, especially in your family.
#pick a card reading#pick a card#divination#intuitive#psychic#tarot#spirituality#pac#tarotblr#pick a pile
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Hey I really love your writing and you can ignore this if you want but what would yandere husband’s reaction to if you got sick. Again if you don’t want to answer this then that’s fine. I hope you are doing well.
Cw: wifey reader! suggestive 🔞, slight mentions of throatpie, m! oral receive, Nokka trying his best to get his shit together,
——————————————————————
Nokka would honestly freak out. He’s never gotten sick a day in his life due to his healthy lifestyle. So he’d be a mess trying to figure out how the fuck to nurse you back to health as it was his duty as your provider to make sure his pretty wife is taken care of.
When your husband notices how utterly frail you’ve become in the recent days. At first he thought nothing of it when you gave a few small coughs thinking you were clearing the load of cum he deposited moments prior.
After he’d gotten done with roughly throatfucking you since you were just begging for it with how you seemed to cutely gag on your toothbrush from reaching to far back. So he figured that as your loving husband he’d help you improve.
But from seeing you looking as if your on your death bed the night he comes back home from the working out. The gym rat immediately drops his weight bag and rushes to you with expletives curses falling from his chapped lips.
Nokka wasn’t at all prepared to take care of you in terms of how a woman would be able to. He opted on taking you to the hospital but he harshly scowled at the thought of male doctors so much as touching you.
Plus what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t take care of his wifey? A sad excuse for one is what. So he instead used Google in order to asses what he was supposed to do.
It was a terrible experience for you both. Due to his strength he kept fucking up with managing your medicine since it was liquid based. Your husband would squeeze the bottle too hard from trying to twist open the top spilling it everywhere. And he’d manhandle you roughly without meaning too. Whilist trying to help you find a comfortable position on the bed with his calloused hands.
This man also kept on making rookie mistakes since he’d only ever watch his mother cook. And not once thought to take any notes or to even help for that matter since he’d be whisked away by his father who’d teach him what a man’s world was and ect.
All in all it’d be a rough learning process for him and you both but he’d damn sure put in his best effort to take care of his wife. With a newfound set of respect in how a woman handles things within their households.
#Nokka the husband#yandere male x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere drabble#yandere male#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere blurb#yandere husband#suggestive#yanderecore#yandere content#male yandere#yandere concept#yandere headcanons#yandere x y/n#smut imagine#yandere smut
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